


(fuck you) Can I Have This Dance?

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bathroom Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Podfic Welcome, Public Sex, Thanks Childish Gambino, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 17:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: It starts in a bathroom and ends in Ryan's bed.





	(fuck you) Can I Have This Dance?

**Author's Note:**

> so [LES by childish gambino](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFTlImWcjfs) is just like.. a sexy song, alright? and this happened, because the first line came to me and wouldn't leave me alone. so! have some PWP inspired by that song as well as [animal by nine inch nails,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTFwQP86BRs) because i have neither dignity nor self control.
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing, as always!
> 
> enjoy!

“Are you—fuck, god, _shit_ —are you _fucking_ me in time to the _music_ right now?”

Shane laughs against his ear, but it’s strained. “S’a really good beat,” he slurs, drunk on the three drinks he had on the dancefloor and on lust. Ryan’s in a similar boat, but there’s something about a cock splitting you open that sobers you up a little bit. Shane’s hips are moving in sharp, solid jerks. He pushes in to the hilt every time but never withdraws fully; even though the music is muted in the bathroom, Ryan can hear the heavy beat banging against the walls.

And yeah, Shane is _definitely_ fucking him to the rhythm.

The hand Ryan has braced on the toilet paper dispenser starts to slip, and he can practically feel Shane’s legs quaking. It had been Shane’s idea that they fuck in the bathroom—it had also been his idea that they do it up against a grimy wall. When Ryan had turned and braced his hands against the wall, ass out, he’d only got a _tsk-_ ing sound in response. Before he knew it, Shane had him all turned around and gathered into his arms.

So now they’re here, ready to collapse under the strain on their bodies.

“Hurry it up,” Ryan bites out, fisting his other hand in Shane’s stupid denim jacket. “I’m gonna fall.”

“I’ll catch you,” Shane says, but his words are mostly muffled against Ryan’s neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin, and when he breathes, Ryan catches a whiff of sugary sweetness. “You feel so good, Ry,” he mumbles drunkenly. He moves with almost impressive grace as he keeps thrusting and works a hand between them.

Ryan arches his back when Shane’s hand curls around his cock and starts to stroke. It’s dry save for the sweat on Shane’s palm, and the friction is _good_. Ryan rolls his hips to meet Shane’s thrusts and grind himself into Shane’s hand.

Shane’s thrusts never miss a beat and Ryan marvels at it, idly, but he’s much more interested in Shane’s dick brushing his prostate every other thrust. He whines when an especially deep thrust hits it and Shane smirks against his cheek.

He picks up the pace just enough that he can thrust _harder_ and still be on the beat. Ryan wants to scream, wants Shane to just fucking pound into him; he’s so close to the edge, he can feel it in his toes as they curl, legs locked around Shane’s waist.

“Please,” Ryan whines, loud enough that it echoes off the bathroom walls. The song is still going, and Ryan can’t make out the words, but he can’t deny it’s a good fucking rhythm.

Literally.

Shane wheezes against his face, and says, “You’re such an idiot,” so affectionately it almost hurts. His grip on Ryan’s cock tightens and he trails his lips across Ryan’s face. His stubble burns against Ryan’s skin as he goes, until he can nibble on his earlobe. He breathes against Ryan’s ear for a second and it sends shivers down his spine.

“Shane,” he keens, “please.” His knuckles are white where his hand is curled around the toilet paper dispenser. It’s starting to hurt, and the pain distracts him for a second before he realizes what Shane’s doing.

Singing. In his ear. It’s breathy and off-key, but he’s definitely murmuring the words against Ryan’s ear. _“Baby, you’re the baddest, baby you’re the baddest girl.”_

Ryan’s body lights up like a forest fire and the moan slips out of his mouth without his permission. Something about Shane’s voice, the sultry words, and yeah, okay, being in Shane’s arm being called baby and girl—it gets to him, in a good way. Ryan moans again and he can feel the curve of Shane’s smirk. He never stops singing.

_“We’re kissing in the bathroom, we’re kissing in the bathroom girl. Hope nobody catch us.”_ Shane pulls back then and kisses Ryan hard, with enough force that his head hits the tiled wall he grunts in pain. Shane’s hands tighten on his hips and he finally, _finally_ thrusts faster.

Ryan thinks it might be because the song is over, but Shane is hitting his prostate with unerring accuracy, and Ryan can’t hear anything over his own moans. Shane swallows every moan with kiss after kiss, but it barely muffles them in the bathroom, with acoustics too killer for its own good. Anyone walking by can probably hear them, and Ryan shudders at the thought.

Shane leans into his ear again, and apparently the song isn’t over quite yet, because he half-sings, half-speaks, _“But I kinda hope they catch us.”_

Ryan comes suddenly as Shane slams into him. He throws his head back and hits the wall again but he doesn’t even feel the pain. All he feels is Shane’s cock deep inside him, his own prick pulsing in his hand and staining their clothes with come. Shane keeps thrusting but he’s barely pulling out now; his hips jerk in quick and brutal circles as he chases his own orgasm.

Ryan clenches around him despite the way it sends his nerves into overdrive, and he’s rewarded with a guttural groan.

“Fuck, Ryan, _shit_.” And then Shane’s coming in hot spurts, filling Ryan up even more. Ryan’s already regretting not using a condom, because he’s not exactly a fan of the feeling of come slipping out of him.

But it’s kind of hot, too.

Shane pants against his ear, then starts to pepper sweet kisses over Ryan’s face. He follows Ryan’s jawline, kisses him briefly on the lips, then kisses the tip of his nose and his forehead.

“This is cute and all,” Ryan says, flushing in delight, “but I can’t feel my legs.”

Shane is grinning when he pulls back. “You saying I fucked you so good, you can’t walk?”

Ryan digs his knee into Shane’s side in retaliation. “Hardly,” he retorts. Shane helps him lower one leg to the ground, then the other, before making a show of rubbing at his ribs. “You’ll live,” Ryan says as he pulls Shane in for another kiss.

Shane melts into it and presses Ryan against the wall. They really need to clean up, and Ryan’s pants are tossed haphazardly in the corner, and he can feel Shane’s come inside him. It’s all hot and messy and Ryan moans into the kiss, almost wishes they could go again.

Shane is the one to break the kiss. He combs a hand through his own hair, then one through Ryan’s. “We should probably leave,” he admits, and Ryan’s at least gratified to hear the regret in his voice.

“Yeah,” Ryan replies, equally mournful. Shane steps away and retrieves the black skinny jeans from the corner of the stall. He tosses them to Ryan then starts to gather up toilet paper.

Shane wipes his own stomach clean and swipes over his cock, messy with lube and come. Ryan does the same once he can finally tear his eyes away from Shane. He pats his stomach clean and reaches between his legs to clean up at least some of the mess. Then, when all tissue is tossed, with a reluctant sigh, he steps into his briefs and skinny jeans again.

Shane waits patiently by the stall door and holds out his hand to Ryan. “I think we should call it a night.”

Ryan nods and lets Shane guide them out of the stall—no one else is in the bathroom, thank god—and out of the bathroom. The only people in the hallway outside the bathrooms are other couples who are too wrapped up in each other to notice Ryan and Shane They make their way through the bar and across the dancefloor, and then they’re out into the cool night air.

Shane puts in a request for an uber, and while they’re waiting, Ryan turns to him. “So.”

“So,” Shane replies, tucking his phone away and giving Ryan his full attention.

“Any other songs you want to fuck me to?” Ryan holds his breath once the words are out.

Shane’s eyes glint under the shitty streetlamps, and he takes a step closer to Ryan. “Oh yeah. A whole playlist,” he says low and sultry.

It’s a sexy voice, one that gets Ryan to swoon, but he lets out a giggle. “Wait, really?”

Shane rolls his eyes. “You don’t have a sexy playlist?”

“I mean, no—not anymore.” Ryan thought that sorta thing was a little trite or juvenile. The thought of Shane having such a playlist, though… “But I want to hear yours.”

Shane smirks and leans down to kiss Ryan. “I should warn you, there are some slower songs on there. Nice gentle, lazy beats.” He tilts his head and whispers into Ryan’s ear. “Think you can handle it?”

Ryan turns his head and bites playfully at the hinge of Shane’s jaw. “Can _you_?”

 

Their uber driver probably sees a lot more of them than he really wants to, so Ryan tosses him a ten before they scramble out of the car. They can’t keep their hands off each other in the elevator, and Shane’s jacket is hanging onto his body by a thread by the time they get to Ryan’s apartment door.

It takes a monumental effort to shove Shane away long enough to get the key in the lock, and once they’re both inside they’re immediately stumbling toward the bedroom.

“Raring to go so soon?” Shane taunts, even as he shrugs out of his jacket and his shirt, tossing both aside carelessly.

Ryan flips him off and yanks off his own t-shirt, soaked with sweat. “Just, hurry up.” He turns around and walks over to his dresser. Along the top sits a bluetooth speaker, small but it’ll be loud enough for what they need. He turns it on, and when he faces Shane again, the other man is scrolling through his phone.

Ryan takes the moment to strip out of his clothes, cringing at the feeling of come and lube between his thighs. His boxers might need to be tossed in the trash; he spares a second to hope his jeans are fine, at least, before he climbs into bed. He settles on his back and watches as Shane wanders over to the dresser.

“You ready?” Shane asks, looking over his shoulder.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Lay it on me, big guy. Give me the best you got.”

Shane’s grin is downright predatory, and a thrill runs through Ryan at the sight. “You asked for it,” Shane reminds him before facing the bluetooth speaker again. There’s a few clicking sounds as Shane gets to the right app, the right song, the right volume.

He turns around just as the beat starts, and Ryan can’t stop the blush that takes over his face. He wants to laugh but it dies in his throat. Shane walks toward Ryan slowly, slips onto the bed gracefully, and settles himself in the cradle of Ryan’s hips. He rolls his hips in time to the beat, slow and sensual and _dirty_. Ryan actually knows this song, knows what lyrics are coming, and he’s craving it suddenly despite his earlier release.

“Fuck, Shane,” he gasps as their cocks brush.

Shane drops closer and thrusts his hips harder. “You asked for it,” he reminds with a devilish grin.

Ryan moans as the lyrics start—

_You let me violate you. You let me desecrate you._

Shane murmurs, _“You let me penetrate you,”_ and grins like the asshole he is. The song plays on as he speaks. “Think you can still take me?”

Ryan reaches between them and grips Shane’s cock, half hard but well on its way to full mast. He strokes Shane until precome is dribbling from his slit. “C’mon,” he breathes, nudging at Shane with his knees. “Do it.”

Shane pushes Ryan’s hand away and wraps his own hand around the base of his cock to guide it into Ryan. It’s almost ridiculously well timed, the way he sinks in so smoothly and deep, just as the songs crests— _I wanna fuck you like an animal_.

Ryan knows that Shane could go faster, could thrust on every single drumbeat instead of every other one. It’s almost comedic, the way his hips move to the rhythm, almost absurdly slow. It’s torturous, the drag of Shane’s heavy dick against Ryan’s oversensitive insides, but it’s stupidly good, too.

Maybe it’s the alcohol still burning in their veins, maybe it’s because they’re both too keyed up to make it last, but Ryan feels himself hurtling toward the edge of orgasm almost unbelievably quick. Shane’s thrusts start to falter sooner and Ryan cries out, nails raking down Shane’s back, as he _finally_ gets what he wanted.

Shane pounds into him so hard the headboard slaps against the wall, and Ryan thanks every god he knows that he doesn’t share that wall with a neighbor. The song becomes white noise under Ryan’s own litany of moans, and Shane’s grunts as he thrusts faster and harder still.

“Ryan,” Shane moans, “gonna come.”

Ryan can still feel Shane’s come from earlier, knows he’s going to pass out after this and wake up sticky, but he nods frantically. “Do it, Shane, I wanna feel it.”

Shane’s eyes flutter shut and his back bows as he pushes into Ryan as far as he can go, coming again. It’s not as much, not as strong, but Ryan still shivers at the feeling. He drops a hand to his own cock and strokes himself rapidly, whining with each stroke that verges on too much.

Shane’s hips slow but he doesn’t pull out and his cock doesn’t soften right away. “Want to feel you come on my cock, baby,” Shane murmurs under the pounding of the song. It’s shifted into something else, Ryan can’t tell what. All he can focus on is Shane, Shane—

_“Shane!”_ Ryan shouts as he comes again. It almost hurts; his cock pulses in his grip and spills out a pathetic amount of come over his fingers. He pants and gasps as he comes down, and only takes his hand off his cock because Shane drags his hand away. Shane slips out of him slow and careful, but Ryan still shudders.

Ryan whimpers at the loss and shuts his eyes; he makes a confused noise when Shane slides off the bed. The dull drone of music stops abruptly, along with the sound of the bluetooth speaker shutting off. There’s a few muted footsteps over the carpet, then the bed dips.

Shane collapses beside him and grins.

Ryan rolls onto his side, wincing slightly, and smiles back. “How long is that playlist, exactly?”

Shane hums. “Four hours, give or take.”

Ryan nods along. “Good thing we don’t have anywhere to be this weekend,” he says quietly, scooting closer until his and Shane’s legs can tangle. Sleep is pulling at his eyelids and he sneaks a kiss from Shane. “Gonna fuck you tomorrow, gonna pick the song.” He means it to sound like a threat but Shane’s arms just wrap around him and pull him closer.

“Lookin’ forward to it, little guy.” Shane yawns.

“Fuck you,” Ryan hisses, even as he relaxes into Shane’s hold.

“Yep, that’s what’s gonna happen.”

Ryan shakes his head, but smiles. “Love you.”

Shane hums and presses a kiss to Ryan’s hair. “Love you too.”


End file.
